


the au where there are dragons

by fascinationex



Series: bleach works [6]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragons Prefer Virgins, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, NnoiTes AU Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 12:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex
Summary: (for day six of nnoites au week on tumblr)A dragon, Tesla knows, is a fierce and terrible thing. He’s just... never actually seen one before.





	the au where there are dragons

A dragon, Tesla knows, is a fierce and terrible thing.

He’s just... never actually seen one before.

They have to leave the mounts miles out, when all of them refuse come any closer.

Now that he’s walking through the ruined countryside left by the dragon’s passing, Tesla thinks animals can be a lot cleverer than humans in some matters.

The landscape is a mess.

The ground is hot underfoot, hot enough that Tesla can feel it through the steel and leather of his boots. It’s covered here and there in something black and thick and sticky, and which has formed rivulets and eddies through the ground.

It’s said that dragons breathe fire. That sounds terrifying and mysterious, so Tesla can see why the poetic turn of phrase is used so often. It’s inaccurate. That’s really not what this is.

Tesla is, speaking technically, a knight (technically -- knighted in a rush the eve before battle, with fifty-three others, all given that honour so they could legally use certain arms and armaments), and he has been besieged in a fortress before -- so he knows what happens to both land and people when you pour boiling pitch on them. Some things catch fire from the heat alone, but for the most part it... sticks, thickly, and clings to everything, and burns them with a seething heat that can’t be gotten off without far worse damage.

That’s what this looks like.

They can both see the dragon even as they approach, of course. It’s too big to hide. The air around it wavers like a mirage, reality distorted by the terrible heat rising from the blasted landscape.

Everything out here is boiling hot, and Tesla’s armour is baking him alive. It’s no use against the dragon anyway. It’s not the first time he contemplates taking it off and leaving it beside what’s left of the road, to be collected if he survives this meeting.

Taking it off would feel like surrender. Tesla keeps it on.

The illustrations in their oldest texts are fundamentally wrong in several ways, but the creature is definitely a dragon. In the texts, dragons are huge, thick and muscular, with two or four strong legs and a bulky, scaled body with enormous wings and a long, wicked tail. Their faces are long, with huge white teeth, each like a short sword, and fur or feathers trailing from the skull down the spine. They are fierce and terrifying, yes, but they are plainly beasts.

The thing before Tesla is something else.

It is gargantuan, yes -- not just like a castle or a cathedral, but like a whole mountain. And when it stands up straight and spreads its pale bony wings it throws a tremendous shadow over the whole smoking landscape.

Compared to the dragons in those illustrations, this one is... too strange and corrupt to be a beast. It is thin where those dragons were thick and meaty, so thin that all the muscles under its smooth-scaled skin stand out starkly. Even from a distance every movement comes with the tick and twitch of tendons beneath the skin -- it’s like watching the strings of a piano as somebody plays on the keys. There are places where Tesla can see bone, and they don’t stay inside the skin. This seems not to bother it.

Through the top of its head is a set of horns shaped like a crescent moon, and they jut out, huge and yellow-white, brown around the edges.

It smells like it rolled in a charnel house along the way.

“Courage, Lindocruz,” murmurs Nelliel, in a calm way that makes him a little ashamed.

There’s a strong chance of him getting hurt or killed here, but his job is literally to deliver her into its terrifying talons. How she can be so calm is beyond him.

He can show courage, especially since there seems to be nothing else left to him. Her other knights drew longer straws than Tesla.

“Of course, Princess.”

Somehow she finds a smile for him -- it’s more a gesture than a feeling, thin and brittle like glass on her face, although of course she’s very pretty with her tousled green hair and her huge coffee-brown eyes. He wonders if her feet have blistered in the heat of the ground. Her shoes are made of thin lamb’s leather and silk, and he doubts they’ve held up well.

Maybe... maybe it doesn’t matter if she’s hurting. She’s going to the dragon, after all.

And so they approach.

Tesla finds that the dragon’s face is the worst part. Its face, smoothly transferred from the long sleek-scaled neck, is basically human. It is pale. It doesn’t have teeth like a carnivore, but rather long and flat and uniform, like any plant-eater, and lips just like Tesla’s. It has one glaring eye, huge and slanted and glossy with madness, and where the other should be is a hole in its head. Tesla can’t see the sky through it. It seems to go on forever. If he stares too long he thinks he sees stars.

“Do you think I’m so big I can’t see you?”

Tesla is surprised to hear the dragon speak. He’s not sure why -- its face is almost entirely human, as disturbing as that is, and it has such a human-looking mouth for all its size. Maybe he hadn’t expected it to be smart.

“Er,” he says, when Nelliel tips her head toward him. “No, we came to, er, give you the princess.”

It sounds increasingly dumb the more Tesla thinks about it. The princess is lovely, sure, but she’s also just one woman.

“Is this meant to stop me from burning all your shit?”

The princess opens her mouth. “Our old writings --”

“Did someone say you could talk?” wonders the dragon. He spits at her feet. She jerks away, and just in time -- the ground where it lands melts, evaporating in a foul smoke.

Tesla can feel the heat searing right through his armour. His sweat is already dripping down into the linen padding beneath it.

“You,” the dragon lowers its huge, too-human face, peering at him with its single glaring eye. He can definitely see pinpricks of light wheeling in the dark hole in its face. It smells like an abattoir. “Talk.”

...Right. “Old writings from the temple tell us that a dragon might accept the sacrifice of a v--” he hesitates, flicking his eyes toward Nelliel, although it seems like discussing the status of her virginity in public is the least of her present worries, “--virgin princess and leave to harry another land.”

The dragon eyes him.

“Virgin, huh,” he drawls. Sniffs the air. “Yeah, I guess.”

And _now_ Nelliel looks uncomfortable.

“That’s stupid, though. One woman’s pretty much the same as another. What if I don’t want her?”

The dragon exhales, and although he’s not spitting at them, Tesla feels himself sway under the heat of his breath.

“...then that’s, erm, that’s unfortunate,” says Tesla distantly. “Is there something you _do_ want?”

The dragon pauses, like he’s never really been asked such a thing before, and then hunches back down and eyes Tesla. He has six -- eight? -- _eight_ \-- legs, and one of the foremost pair reaches out and flicks a claw through Tesla’s fluffy hair.

“’S bright,” he mumbles, perhaps to himself, although he’s so large even his breathing sounds like a bellows. A mumble is only slightly quieter than an earthquake. “Like gold.”

Tesla is not... completely comfortable with a dragon referring to any part of him as ‘like gold’. From the way Nelliel shifts on her feet behind him, she doesn’t like the implications either.

“...Sir?”

The dragon sniffs at him. With its huge human face. He wants to whimper, that‘s horrifying.

“What about you?”

“...What about me?” Tesla asks slowly.

“Are you a virgin?”

“That’s not really--” the dragon makes a low sound, and Tesla freezes. “Uh, that is. Yes, but. I’m not a woman.”

“I can see that, idiot,” sighs the dragon. “I don’t want a woman. I don’t like women.”

...that.

That’s not.

Well.

He didn’t.

That.

 _Um_.

 _Any time you want to finish one of those sentences,_ Tesla thinks, trying desperately to reboot his brain.

“Um,” says Tesla, and looks at Nelliel, who gives him a look of baffled concern right back. “I’ve never had... intimate... uh, that is...” He trails off. Coughs. This is the most embarrassed he’s ever been while in fear of his life. “But I’m not, ah, I’m not a prince.”

“Yeah?” says the dragon. Thoughtfully he peers down at them. “I’ll live.”

The shadow of his -- foot? -- hand? -- paw? -- descends upon Tesla, and for a second all he thinks is a blank, screeching: _oh shit_.

His paws are a lot like hands: four long toes at the front with one opposable one at the back, each tipped with a razor sharp claw. They’re long and thin, like sticks or bones, but Tesla feels the uncanny strength in them when he closes them around him. The dragon’s skin is very, very hot.

He scoops Tesla up one-handed, hoisting him effortlessly into the hot air. His heart’s beating so hard he thinks it might explode, which will probably save him a lot of trouble in the long run.

His other seven limbs stretch out and his whole skeletal body rises from its perch on the dirt.

Distantly, Tesla can see Nelliel’s face -- her soft eyes flick from Tesla to the dragon and back, and her teeth gnaw her lip, and then, finally, she lifts her chin, nods once, and turns away. “Excuse me, then. I’ll let my father know.”

The dragon makes a singularly unimpressed sound, quite as though he couldn’t care less about kings or kingdoms or --

Tesla swallows. “There is no way you’re going to leave the kingdom alone,” he mutters. Nelliel is a princess, she can afford to be a bit naive, but he -- Tesla feels very, very stupid right now.

“Would you look at that,” says the dragon. “It’s clever, too. More fun to give her a head start, though, isn’t it?”

Tesla feels sick. “Is it?”

“I’ve got something else to distract me for a bit now,” the dragon says, and doesn’t that just spread an icy chill down Tesla’s spine in the middle of all this heat?

The dragon, just as Tesla predicts, does not leave their kingdom. It doesn't continue its spree of mayhem and murder, either - or at least not immediately.

Instead it takes off with Tesla. It flings them both on a terrifying journey through the sky, trusting the air to catch beneath its massive wings and carry them both. It thunders to the dirt halfway up a mountain that Tesla doesn't know. They could be anywhere. There's a tremendous cave, although tremendous to Tesla is still too small to house a dragon. There are even trees outside, many knocked down but none burnt by dragon spit.

The dragon touches down heavily, knocking over a new tree and making the earth shudder. Birds, startled, flutter away from a nearby tree in a sudden burst of noise and colour.

The dragon sets Tesla down -- it probably seems nearby the ground to it, but to Tesla it's still an unexpected three foot drop and he stumbles.

"In," it instructs, and one long-fingered paw smacks into Tesla's back and sends him staggering into the dim cave opening.

The cave is dark compared to the sunlight outside, and Tesla is right in that the entrance is big but not big enough for the dragon to fit.

There's a pile of, well, treasures, Tesla guesses: golden shiny things that gleam even in the dark. There's also the world's most enormous fire pit and some huge furs Tesla can't even begin to guess the source of.

He stands in the cool cave air and feels his heart still thundering in his chest. There's only so much time a body can spend in complete panic before it gives in to a restless, exhausted sort of trembling anxiety instead, and this is where Tesla finds himself: shaking, tired, and very, very stressed.

"I could have died in battle," he mutters to himself.

"Too bad," says the dragon, who has much more acute hearing than Tesla expects, "you could have, but you gave yourself to me and now you only get to die if I say you can," he tells him. "I might. But either way, I'm gonna fuck you first."

"Um," says Tesla, because aside from everything else terrible about this situation, he has seen how large the dragon is. It would be very optimistic to think he might fuck Tesla and not kill him during the act.

That'll be a bad way to go, spitted and cleaved in half. He prefers the boiling dragon spit, if he may have an opinion.

Tesla turns to point his inevitable death by violent horrible sex out, but when he does all he sees is the shadow of the dragon on the cave wall, twisting and seething and boiling until most of its mass is stripped away and the silhouette streamed by the sunlight on the rock is...

Man shaped.

...Not like any man that Tesla's ever met, exactly, he decides when the dragon steps into the cave proper -- Tesla is five foot ten and practically a giant among the other knights, and this man has at least a foot on him. He's skinny, like the dragon; pale, like the dragon; missing an eye, like the dragon.

The face isn't as weird on him now. He looks like a strange, eldritch thing, but less monstrous and more...

He looks like one of many reasons why people don't let their kids play in fairy rings.

He still has four arms. He spreads them, mockingly Tesla thinks, in what might otherwise be a gesture of welcome.

Tesla swallows.

The hands grip him, spin him and push. The dragon is still hot to the touch.

"Strip," he says, lowering his head to breathe steam against Tesla's golden hair, "and get on your hands and knees."

Tesla is obedient. He is obedient in a distant fog of shock. He is obedient because disobedience means dying.

Obedience might also mean dying, but his chances are better.

"I said on your knees."

...And the dragon's just as scary in human form. Tesla drops.

The dragon runs a lot hotter than humans do. His hands are very, very hot. One runs right down Tesla's spine, between his shoulder blades, hot across the small of his back. It cups one of his buttocks and he tenses, but he doesn't jerk or scream or -- he exhales, soft and shaky. Tesla knows what's coming, he's not stupid. He bites his lip and tries not to wonder exactly how much this will hurt.

"So obedient," marvels the dragon. He squeezes, hard, hard enough to hurt, until Tesla makes a noise of discomfort.

A second hand runs over the jut of his shoulder blade, across the flat muscle over his ribs, down the side of his waist. It settles onto his hipbone, fingers stretching out wide. It's so warm, he feels the trail it leaves, still hot in the cool mountain air. He can feel the spill of the dragon's hair over his tailbone.

"Why do you care so much if I'm a -- if I've had a woman or not?" Tesla wonders.

The dragon snorts at his turn of phrase, and then licks up the back of his thigh. Its tongue is slightly too long to mistake for human, and its saliva is -- it doesn't burn like boiling pitch, but it's still hot. Miles hotter than Tesla's skin. It tingles faintly as it cools.

He blinks rapidly. Oh, okay.

The dragon continues on, heedless of his question for a few long seconds, and Tesla bites his lip when he slides his tongue all slick and burning hot along the crease between thigh and buttock. That's, er, that's more sensitive than Tesla thought it was.

He draws a long line of slick saliva and burning heat up his spine, all the way to his neck where Tesla feels the sensation spread over his shoulders, right down his spine. His nipples go hard and his guts clench up unexpectedly.

"What a stupid, human question," says the dragon into his shoulder, where his hard flat teeth scrape on Tesla's skin. His breath is hot enough to make the skin flush.

Tesla scrambles to remember what he actually asked.

The dragon has four -- six? possibly? -- very warm hands and all of them are on Tesla's body, sliding and rubbing and scratching gently. He can't keep track of them. One rubs over a nipple in its exploration, then backtracks when he grunts helplessly in response -- finds it again, tugs until he chokes out a sound again. There are two hands holding him down, a set of long pale fingers playing with his pubic hair, a thumb sliding the dragon's slick hot saliva up his perineum.

"It's so the only hands you ever feel on your body are mine."

"Oh," says Tesla, who will find this strange or upsetting later. But now isn't later, and now it makes something hot and sweet curl up in his belly. _Oh, he wants me_ , he thinks, stupidly, and makes a low wordless noise.

"Yess," purrs the dragon. He rubs a long burning finger against Tesla's lips. Tesla opens his mouth and sucks and the dragon laughs -- condescending, delighted, slightly breathless.

Tesla expects it to hurt, and it does -- because the dragon _bites_ , huge hard vicious wounds that crush the flesh beneath his flat teeth and bruise spectacularly, all before he worries them open. His hot tongue licks the blood off Tesla's skin as it dribbles out.

Tesla tries to keep quiet -- at least until he realises how much the dragon is getting off on hearing what noises he makes when he's in pain. At first he lets himself be noisy because he thinks it'll be over faster that way. Then, about three burning bites later, the dragon has one hand wrapped around his swollen cock and another fisted in his hair and a third with its thumb rubbing hot saliva along the rim of his hole, forcing the muscles to stretch with heat and pressure -- then he's making noise because he's just, well, making noise. Tesla feels those awful teeth sink into the meat of his shoulder again and he squeezes his eyes shut and moans, hard and breathless and ragged and _loud_ because his entire nervous system is deeply confused between pain and pleasure right now and he's never been so turned on in his life.

Perversely, the actual fucking is nearly painless, by the time he actually gets around to it. All Tesla does is brace himself on his elbows and then stay there, moaning and whining in dazed and blissful submission while his whole body jerks and twists against the dragon's. It lasts almost twenty minutes before Tesla loses track: hard, relentless, the dragon sinks his teeth in and fucks noises out of Tesla he didn't know he could make.

Tesla comes. Twice. And then he folds in an exhausted sloppy pile of limbs, bleeding and panting on the furs and waits for the dragon to either finish inside him or get bored.

"Good human," breathes the voice in his ear some time later. It's warm and dark and he doesn't want to open his eyes. He aches all over and he knows if he moves it'll hurt like all hell. He can't remember the dragon coming but he can feel it inside him. It's... hot. Very hot. He can feel a slow trickle down the inside of his thigh and he is torn between being mortified and desperately horny all over again.

"That's your job now," the dragon says, very clearly. And Tesla makes a confused noise, because, what, what's his job? "Until you die."

What, that?  _That's_ his job?

The... 

"Oh," says Tesla, forcing his eyes open. His hands are still shaking. He isn't sure how much time has passed. He breathes and his body tells him in no uncertain terms that every inch of it is bruised.

"Or I get bored," the dragon adds, quite dubiously, eyeing Tesla.

"'S that. Um. Happen often?" Tesla asks, wondering if this is a good development or not.

The dragon tilts its head to one side. It's not... bad looking, per se, in his human shape, as long as Tesla doesn't look at the hole in its face. That's a big thing to ignore, though. His mouth twists into a smile. His teeth are still coloured around the edges with Tesla's blood. "Not yet."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this still probably wants some editing, but i'm throwing in the towel. _please have this porn_ , i scream, hurling it at you and going back to bed.
> 
> If you enjoyed this work and you feel like commenting, please let me know what you liked about it. :)


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